


Between Genius and Insanity

by QuintessenceA



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Broken Bones, Doctor/Patient, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Rape, Sans is Having a Bad Time (Undertale), Sanster, W. D. Gaster Being An Asshole, asylum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29920044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessenceA/pseuds/QuintessenceA
Summary: A follow up AU to K8's Asylum for Two, but with one major difference. Gaster doesn't belong here. This Universe's Gaster is gone like all the rest. Then this mad, delusional monster just showed up one day, claiming to be the Royal Scientist and demanding access to the Core.Now, Doctor Sans has found himself at the mercy of his clearly deranged, very dangerous patient.
Relationships: W. D. Gaster/Sans
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Between Genius and Insanity

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Asylum for Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891541) by [hyliank8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyliank8/pseuds/hyliank8). 



> So go read K8's story first, it's great, and has the required context. (Thank you for all the fun!!!)
> 
> This is direct sequel to K8's fic, Gaster has been locked away for the safety of himself and others, and kept on a regiment of magic suppressing medication. (Spoiler) He hasn't been taking it, and doses Sans with it during a nightshift check. And it just gets worse from here!
> 
> Scene- Sans, pinned on his back by extra hands on the mattress, magic suppressed, and completely at insane Gaster's mercy.
> 
> (Special thank you to undertailsoulsex, their comment on k8's fic inspired this Gaster's origins!)
> 
> [Русский перевод доступен здесь!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10520966)  
> Большое спасибо, [Darkened Soul](https://ficbook.net/authors/4341598)!

Sans' eyes widened as he looked up at Gaster, who continued to stare down at him with an expression unlike any he'd ever seen before. Gaster's eyes were wide with madness, but there was undeniable intelligence behind them. And, behind that, the bright shine of lust, his hunger clear as he licked his fangs with his long tongue, his teeth bared in a predatory smile.

Sans couldn't speak past the hand on his mouth, couldn't hope to break free from the hands holding him down. He could only watch as Gaster slowly began to move his fingers along the length of Sans' arm, pulling down his sleeve to stroke back and forth along the sensitive spaces between his radius and ulna.

"Lovely, lovely," Gaster purred. It was terrifying.

He leaned down, and his fingers traveled from Sans' arm to his clenched fist, tracing the lines of bones as he stroked it gently. His touch was hot despite the ever present chill of the patient rooms.

"You've always had such beautiful hands."

His hand moved to Sans' wrist, pulling it closer for inspection and the hand construct holding him followed along, never releasing its grip even as Sans tried uselessly to pull free. Gaster twisted his hand this way and that, his fingers running lightly across the pulse point there. For a moment, he seemed entranced by it, as if by the way Sans' magic held him together. Then, he bit down.

Gaster pressed his fangs into the bones of Sans' wrist, and although he didn't bite down all the way to puncture to the marrow, the pain was enough to cause Sans to gasp, his voice muffled by the construct across his face.

Gaster let out a low chuckle as he released his bite, his fangs pulling back from the wrist.

"You taste just like I remember. Oh Sans, we're going to have so much fun."

As he said this, his hands moved up to Sans' neck, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Sans struggled to speak, and Gaster pulled his hand away.

"Y-you need to stop, Mr. Gaster," he said, trying to put his authority into his voice. 

Gaster's hands were back to stroking, now on his arms, gliding up to his shoulders. There was an almost soothing feeling to it, a care that showed as the hands moved up and down his arms.

"You're so beautiful," Gaster breathed, his voice thick with lust. "And it's been so long since we've done this…"

Now Sans understood. Stars, delusions had been part of Gaster's profile. 

"Mr. Gaster, please, listen to me," Sans begged, trying to get him to see reason. "You're experiencing a psychotic break. We've never done this. You have to let me go."

"No, I don't think I will. This is too much fun." Gaster laughed again, his fingers moving to stroke Sans' ribs through his shirt. "But you make a good point, _doctor_ , I guess it's true, this is new to you. And please, just 'Gaster' is fine."

"Fine, alright, Gaster, you have to-"

"I don't have to do anything," Gaster said, smiling that predatory smile. "Besides, weren't you the one that wanted to know me better? To know what makes me tick?"

Sans felt helpless. He couldn't defend himself like this, utterly useless without his magic. He let out a shudder as Gaster pressed his forehead against his cheek, warm breath on his face.

"I already know what makes you tick," Gaster said, his voice filled with dark promise. "I'm going to break you open, tear you apart. Until there's nothing left. Then, maybe, I'll put you back together how I want you. How about that, hm?"

A horrifying thrill raced up Sans' spine. It sickened him. How could Gaster say something so disgusting and wrong with such a calm tone?

"L-let me go!" Sans demanded, pulling at the hands that held him.

"That's right, struggle," Gaster said. "Perhaps there's a chance for you to escape. The Lab is so quiet at night. If you scream loud enough, maybe someone will rescue you?"

He laughed, though the joke wasn't nearly as funny to Sans.

"But you won't," Gaster said. "You're too curious about what I'll do to you, aren't you?"

Sans shuddered again, as Gaster's hands traveled down his chest. He felt helpless against the onslaught of sensation, the fear and feelings too much to bear.

"G-Gaster, please, I don-t-"

He cut off as Gaster's mouth descended on his, pressing hard against his teeth. His fangs lightly scraped bone as he parted them, his tongue darting into Sans' mouth.

He was kissed with a hunger, an almost famished desire. Sans pushed back, trying to twist away, but Gaster only held him tighter. Gaster's hands continued further down, one sliding into Sans' pants. His cold hands stroked against Sans' pelvis, fingers dipping into the hole of his ischium, causing him to shudder in revulsion.

His other hand grabbed at the bottom of his shirt, and Sans felt the chill air of the room on his bones.

"Please," Sans tried again as Gaster pulled away, staring into his eyes as he removed Sans shirt. "Please!"

"Please, what?" Gaster asked as his auxiliary hands deftly pulled Sans' limbs free, maneuvering him like a doll with their strength. "Please, don't take your shirt off? Please, let you go? Please stop doing what we both know you want me to do and what I want to do?"

The shirt slid free of his body, and the insane monster tossed it aside before bringing his hands down to stroke Sans' shoulders. It felt strangely familiar, and far too intimate.

"You're... You're very pretty," Gaster said, his voice quiet. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against one of Sans' vertebrae. "So thin. So fragile."

He sat back up, pressing his hands against the sides of Sans' face. Sans was frozen, internally screaming at himself to _move! Do something! Anything!_

"So easy to break."

Sans felt the hands slowly twist his head to the side, exposing his neck. His Soul fluttered in his chest, a whimper tumbling from his teeth."D-don't…"

"Shh," Gaster said, pressing a finger against his teeth. "It'll all be over soon. One way or another."

Gaster slowly lowered his head, sharp teeth biting into the side of his neck.

The pain was excruciating.

Fangs pierced through the bone, piercing through to the magic within, and Sans cried out in sharp pain and fear. It oozed down his neck, and he could feel it wetting the sheet below him as he cried out, heat and magic surging through him.

The world went white. 

When he came to, it was to the feeling of Gaster forcing himself inside him. His magic was formed, his shorts missing, and hands were all over his body, touching, stroking, grasping every inch of him, holding him still against the bed.

Sans tried to scream, but could only manage a whimper past the hand against his teeth. The monster was ruthless with him, and there was nothing he could do but endure.

He closed his eyes, trying to forget where he was. He tried to forget that he was being violated, that he was helpless, in pain.

He tried not to think about how stupid he was to let his guard down around the dangerous patient.

Most of all, he tried not to think of how well his body was responding to Gaster's touch. Like he already knew all the buttons to push, as if every vulnerable spot on Sans' body were marked with bright, "touch here" labels.

To his growing dismay, Sans felt himself coming undone as Gaster thrust into him, pressing their bodies flush together. Sans could feel his Soul, the power of it nearly overwhelming. The hands never stopped moving, and there was a pressure building up inside him. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle it.

Sans' arms trembled in the monster's grip, held above his head. He moaned, the sound pulled from him as he struggled.

"Give in," Gaster whispered. "Give in, and this'll all be over with."

He grit his teeth, trying to shake his head.

Gaster chuckled, sending a hand to grip his ribs. The fingers slipped between the spaces, tantalizingly close to his Soul, and squeezed. Sans gave another muffled cry, but the sound was weak. Pathetic.

Gaster relaxed his hand, only to squeeze again, harder, the bones creaking under the pressure. Sans arched up reflexively, and several hands took the opportunity to slip beneath him, helping drive him deeper onto Gaster's cock. Unfortunately, it was just what Sans' body wanted, and he whimpered as pleasure surged through him, almost as sharp as the pain.

"That's it, good boy," Gaster said. "Just relax."

Again and again Gaster moved inside him, hands teasing, pulling, relentlessly driving him towards his climax.

It swept over him in a wave, his body shuddering and clenching around Gaster, before it retreated just as quickly, leaving him panting against Gaster's hand.

"Very good," Gaster murmured, his movements paused as he let Sans collect himself. He released his grip on Sans' face and Sans gasped, desperately sucking in air. 

"Now," the madman said, "it's my turn." He began to move again, faster. His hands pulled Sans as he wanted, allowing him to drive into Sans with abandon.

It was too much, his body sensitive from climax, as unfulfilling as it was. Every drag of Gaster's cock sent jolts of overstimulation through him, threatening to break him in a whole new way.

"Stop, stop!" Sans cried, his body writhing against the hands that held him, desperately trying to escape the feelings.

Gaster reached up, pressing one of his true hands against Sans', trying to coax his clenched fist to uncurl.

It took every ounce of courage to keep his hand closed. He closed his eyes, feeling tears begin to well up in the corners of his sockets. A low sound escaped his throat as he grit his teeth, trying to force them back. He was not going to let Gaster see him crumble.

He was not going to give the monster the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"You know, if you keep fighting, I can make this last all night." 

Sans didn't respond, and Gaster lowered his voice, soft as a plea to say, "Look at me, Sans."

Sans shook his head, trying to drown out the psychopath's voice. He could feel Gaster inside him, trying to take away his control with his presence alone. Who the hell was this monster, this genius of a madman who appeared out of nowhere, with a Soul more powerful than anyone had ever seen?

And why did he want Sans?

"Look at me, Sans," he ordered, a true command. Against his will, Sans obeyed.

Gaster's face was only inches away from his, smiling wickedly as he looked down at him. When their eyes met, he could see nothing but the lust within them.

"It's useless to fight me. Just give up," he said, rubbing his thumb against Sans' fist, a gentle counterpoint to the rough force against his pelvis.

"No."

"It's alright, you know," Gaster said, condescension replacing some of the husk in his voice. "You're allowed to break. I can make it feel good. All you have to do is give in. Would you like that? To feel good?"

Sans grit his teeth. He hated the tone of Gaster's voice, and it made him want to lash out, to snap at his face.

"Or maybe you'd prefer I do this?" Gaster asked, and Sans only had a moment to wonder what he meant before Gaster twisted his hand, bending Sans' fist sharply backwards and to the side. A pained cry escaped his teeth, the shocked sound echoing in the silence of the room.

"Just relax, and give in," Gaster said, even as he continued to rock inside of Sans. "Either way, I'm going to finish."

Sans felt the tears finally fall from his sockets, rolling down his face and onto the sheets below him. How far would Gaster go? What would it take to stop him?

His wrist cracked as the joint twisted out of place, the sound sickening. Sans flinched against the hands that held him, screaming.

"S-stop!" He cried out, shaking and trying to yank his arm free. "Y-you're gonna kill me!"

"Never," Gaster said, sounding vaguely offended. "I know you too well, Sans. I would never kill you. But I will break you."

Sans was shaking, desperate to pull away from the psychopath currently assaulting him.

"Because you're mine. Everywhere, always. My beautiful, perfect Sans."

He could feel more tears roll down his face, as he felt the pressure begin to build up again.

Fuck, fuck, how could he be coming from this?

He felt the tears begin to flow more rapidly, as the pain and violation he'd suffered at Gaster's hands finally threatened to become too much to handle. He couldn't focus, could barely see as Gaster continued to use him, breaking him down with every thrust.

"Are you ready to give in yet?" Gaster asked.

"N-no..." he choked, forcing the word out.

Gaster grabbed his wrist more tightly, fully twisting it back and to the side, the magic cracking as it bent in a way that it shouldn't, as it snapped with a hideous pop.

Another pained scream escaped his teeth. His wrist was barely connected, the joint in pure agony as his magic strained to hold him together.

"Gaster!" He screamed. "Y-you're going to b-break it off!"

"Are you giving up?" Gaster asked. "Just say the word, and I'll make it stop."

"H-how can you hurt m-me like this?" He sobbed. "I only w-wanted to h-help you! W-why are you doing this?"

"Why, my dear doctor? Because I want to," Gaster said, sounding almost confused by the question. "There is no other reason that matters. Because I want to and you can't stop me."

Gaster drove into him again, forcing Sans to cry out as his arm was jostled. The hand on his wrist slid lower, and twisted, straining the bones of his forearms together. 

"Please! G-God, Gaster! P-please!"

"Say you're mine!" Gaster commanded.

A wet crack echoed through the room, and Sans screamed as he felt his ulna splitting. The pain was too much to bear.

"I-I'm yours!" Sans choked out. "I'm yours, Gaster!"

"Yes…" Gaster groaned, a sick, needy sound. "Yes, mine! Always!"

Another thrust and he felt Gaster's cock throb inside him, as the older monster let out a shuddering breath, filling him.

Gaster collapsed on top of him, still inside him.

"Thank you," Gaster said. The awful thing was, he sounded like he meant it.

He released Sans' arm, and some of the pain dulled to a mild agony as the strain was released. Sans struggled to breathe, taking ragged, desperate gasps of air as the sobs wracked his body. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Sans felt a hand wriggling between them, going for the space where they were joined. Gaster pulled out of him, only to be replaced with slick, hard fingers that immediately found his clit. They rubbed at him, rough and fast, fingers slipping to curl inside him, and he could only sob, making pathetic whimpers that climbed higher and higher as Gaster expertly pushed him over the edge. He threw his head back, his jaw falling open in silent scream as he shuddered through his climax, pinned beneath Gaster's body.

Once it was over, Gaster pressed his fingers against Sans' other fist. Trembling, Sans' fingers slowly uncurled, and Gaster let out a pleased chuckle as he laced their fingers together.

"Such a good boy," he said. "Give it time. The next time you say it, you're going to mean it."

Sans blinked as Gaster smiled down at him. Sans couldn't help flinching as Gaster reached out his free hand, only to gently caress his face.

Sans let out a shuddering breath, before opening his mouth to speak. "What... what do you want from me?" He asked. His voice felt raw. Torn.

"Everything," Gaster said with finality. "As I said, give it time. You'll understand in time."

He pulled his hand away.

"You can go back to work now, if you'd like," he said, standing up from the bed and stepping back. "I'll be seeing you again soon, doctor."

The hand constructs vanished, and just like that, Sans was free.

Warily, Sans sat up. Gaster didn't move other than to sit in the lone chair against the opposite wall, crossing one knee over the other.

Cautiously, Sans took stock of himself. His body felt hollow, yet at the same time every movement was a leaden struggle. His arm was definitely splintered, but not shattered, although his wrist was barely hanging on. Everything else simply hurt with varying levels of lesser agony. He refused to dwell on the wetness between his legs. Or on how he couldn't dispell his ecto, his voluntary magic still out of reach.

He watched Gaster like a hawk as he retrieved first his shorts, then his shirt, but the insane monster seemed content to watch him in return, sitting calmly. His face gave away nothing as Sans slipped his shorts on. He only stared, smiling.

His lab coat was on the floor near Gaster. He stared at it, hesitating.

When Gaster realized that Sans wasn't willing to approach close enough to get it he bent down himself, grabbing it and flinging it close enough for Sans to reach where he was.

"What? No 'thank you'?" Gaster mocked as Sans struggled to get his good arm through the coat.

Sans ignored the question, but Gaster only smiled wider. Sans put his shirt in his inventory, knowing that he couldn't get it on right now anyway. He pulled the rest of his coat around him, slipped into his slippers, and headed for the door.

Gaster didn't try to stop him.

Only when he was out of the room, the door shut and locked behind him, did he let himself break. 

He collapsed back against the nearby wall, and sobbed. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to muffle the sounds with his good hand.

As useless as the instincts were, part of him wanted to unlock the door, and demand answers from the psychopath that just violated him, while another part just wanted to lie down and never get up again.

For a few minutes he just sat, torn apart by the shattered remains of his emotions, unable to move. Eventually, he began to stand again, using his good hand against the wall to steady himself. He slowly shook his head, trying to move his other fingers. They only twitched with a feeling like sharp little knives of pain in his joints, but they move.

It hurt to even look at, but with a bit of magic from the infirmary he should be able to heal it back to normal. As he began to stumble down the hall way to the offices, a thought occurred to him.

There should have been cameras. Someone in security should have noticed Sans' absence. Who was watching them?

He shook his head again, trying to shake out any lingering cobwebs. Whoever was in charge of the cameras, they neglected their duty. It would be a serious offense, but right now he didn't care. There should be a record of when he went in, and when he left.

He reached the security room to find Dr. Anthony sitting in the chair. The grinning doctor turned to face him as Sans entered the room.

"Hello Sans," he called, his voice friendly. "Did you have a good time with Gaster?"

Sans stared at him, unable to speak.

Anthony hummed sadly, gesturing to the monitors behind him. "If you're looking for any video from tonight, well, I'm sorry to say that the computer has been experiencing... a bit of technical difficulties."

Sans looked at the row of screens, each one displaying static.

"I'm simply a little behind in taking care of it. I'm sure you understand."

Sans' eyes narrowed. He'd been violated, betrayed, treated like prey and forced to submit to a mentally sick patient. And he suddenly knew who's fault it was.

"You're the one that hasn't been giving Gaster his medication."

"Oh, that," Anthony said, nodding his head. "Yes, I'm afraid I've neglected that duty also."

Sans clenched his good fist. He tried again to reach for his magic, but the medicine that should have been Gaster's was still running through his body, suppressing his magic.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sans spat.

"Wrong with me?" Anthony asked, and Sans would swear his smile got bigger. "Nothing, my friend. I'm just doing what I need to do."

"You're not going to get away with this," he replied.

"Get away with what?" Anthony asked. "All I did was fail to do my job fixing the cameras in a timely manner, which I will probably get written up for, sure. But there's no proof that anything's gone wrong."

"Proof? What about my broken arm?!" He shouted, motioning towards his limp arm.

"True, but that's nothing a little magic won't heal up. Here, let me," he said, reaching out for Sans. "It'll be like it never even happened."

Sans backed away, as the doctor slowly rose from the chair.

"I do want you to understand," he said. "I'm not a bad person."

"Not a bad person? What the fuck do you call what you've done?"

Anthony sighed, pausing his approach. "I'm doing what I have to. For Gaster."

Sans tried to wrap his head around what he was hearing. It didn't make any sense to him. "Gaster's insane!"

"No," Anthony corrected, his voice taking on a note of awe. "You just don't see, Sans. Doctor W. D. Gaster is a genius. He's working on a level far beyond what any of us can even see, much less comprehend."

"You sound like a damn cultist!"

He chuckled, and Sans could hear the edge of madness in his voice.

"I prefer the term... Follower." 

He smiled again, and Sans finally realized how fake it looked. It didn't reach his eyes, looking almost plastered on. Sans stared into his eyes as Anthony stepped forward again, and pitiless darkness stared back.

"Now, about healing that arm..."

"Stay the fuck away from me!" He hissed as fiercely as he could manage.

"Don't worry," Anthony said gently, like he was trying to sooth a skiddish child. "I'm not going to hurt you." Then he laughed, lunging forward.

Sans darted back, out through the open doorway and down the hall towards the offices. Where was everyone? Stars, surely there had to be someone else here! Cleaners? Night owls?

Sans reached the head nurses' office first, grabbing for the door handle. If he could just reach the phone inside! He pulled it open, only to stumble on his way in, falling heavily onto the floor.

"Sans, Sans, Sans…" Dr. Anthony called, stepping in from the doorway. He clicked the switch on the wall and light flooded the little office.

Sans glared at him, breathing heavily as he clutched his arm, but Anthony only reached down, offering a hand.

"Come on," he said. "You're not getting away from me, and you know it. Let me help you."

He stared at the hand in disgust. "I don't want your fucking help! You maniac!" He tried to scramble away but Anthony was too fast, grabbing him by his coat and forcing him face down onto the ground. "Get off me!" Sans screamed.

Warmth flooded through him as healing magic was forced into his body. Healing was part of all of their training, and Anthony, with his green magic, was one of the best.

It certainly didn't feel like a kindness to Sans.

Sans growled and thrashed, but Anthony, like nearly everyone, far outranked Sans in weight class. He couldn't do anything as his bones knit back together, his wounds closing, bruises fading. By the time Anthony was done, Sans was as good as new.

As soon as Anthony let go of him, Sans scrambled away, trying to put as much distance as he could between them.

"I'm sorry about that," Anthony said, and Sans was really, truly starting to hate that smile. "But you weren't cooperating. Now, you should go home for the night, Dr. Sans. I'll keep an eye on things from here."

"You can't... you can't just get away with that!" Sans said, gesturing out with an arm towards Gaster's room.

"I already have, my friend," Anthony said, sounding giddy, like a kid admitting to cheating on a spelling test too late for anyone to counter. "Happily, you won't be able to prove anything. The footage from the cameras has been, well... lost, due to corruption. And my logs will show that you left the room right after giving Doctor Gaster his medication."

Sans stared at him. "Corruption? You're fucking right it's corruption!"

Anthony shrugged again. "Your word against mine."

"And just what do you get out of… out of all of this?" Sans demanded. "And what did you call him? Dr. Gaster? You said that earlier too. Don't tell me you actually believe that mad monster!"

That black nothingness flickered across his eyes once more before Anthony simply turned and walked out the door. 

"Goodnight, Dr. Sans. I'll see you tomorrow." Anthony's laughter continue to echo down the halls long after he walked away.

Sans sat there, huddled for a long time as he thought. About his life. Job. Papyrus. Gaster. Anthony.

Even if he told anyone, who would believe him? Gaster, for all his delusions of alternate universes and occasional bouts of hysteria, was otherwise a model patient. Sans' supervisors would never believe Sans, not without proof and especially not with Anthony, who outranked him by two levels, speaking out against him. Papyrus would, of course, but stars, he'd never want to burden him with that.

But… there was the idea that, if he asked, he could get some midnight spaghetti and fraternal company to feel better. Papyrus would more than likely still be awake right now, and if Sans worded himself right, there wouldn't even be any awkward questions to dance around. Sans only needed to grab his phone from where he'd left it at the nurse's station, send a quick message, and make his way home. Feeling more tired than he'd ever felt in his life, Sans climbed to his feet, and began to walk, tonight's plan in hand.

Tomorrow...

Well. He'd figure that one out when it gets here.

~~  
(Bonus flashback)

"Alright Mr. Gaster," Sans said, pulling out the first Rorschach print. "I'm sure you know the drill by now, but I'd like to see how you do myself. Without thinking about it, what do you see?"

Gaster looked down at the paper, his smile unchanging as he said, "Why, I see weakness."

His smile was always slightly unnerving on the best of days. A little too wide, a little too fake, but never in a way concrete enough to be called out on. 

"Really?" Sans asked, making a note of Gaster's response. "How so?"

"Why, don't you see the form in the center, surrounded by the darkness?" He nodded his head towards the paper, his arms bound by restraint jacket for Sans' protection. "Solid, round, stable. Until you look close. The form is tense, ready to crumble." 

"This one?" Sans asked, tapping the wobbly oblong in the middle of the page.

"Yes," Gaster agreed. "And see the darkness that surrounds it? It creeps in on the bottom, waiting. There is no way to fight it. The best you can do is delay the inevitable."

"I see. And this darkness surrounds you, waiting for you to show weakness?" Sans asked, adding a quick sketch of the blot to his notes. The center form looked so small in his drawing, nothing at all like his patient. Gaster was tall, long in limb and body. The blot figure was short, round like Gaster had said.

"Oh no, Dr. Sans," Gaster said with a low chuckle. "I am the darkness."


End file.
